


What It Took, What It Takes, What It Will Take

by RyeBread



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Consent Is Impossible When One Person Has All The Power, Critical Role Spoilers, Dubious Consent, F/M, Overall Just Bad Feelings, Sexual Assault, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dubcon, murder ideation, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 12:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16576433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeBread/pseuds/RyeBread
Summary: Fjord sleeps with Avantika because that’s what he needs to do.





	What It Took, What It Takes, What It Will Take

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because the whole idea of Fjord sleeping with Avantika at all when she has that much power over him, let alone the direct threat she poses to the lives of himself and his friends, is extremely uncomfortable.
> 
> Much like vomiting, sometimes you need to just get it out to feel better, so I wrote this. It contains descriptions of sexual assault, written from Fjord’s perspective, and delves a bit into his psychology as I’ve interpreted from his admissions so far. It was uncomfortable to write, but it gave it words and validated my own feelings on this whole thing, so here it is if you think it’s something you want to read.
> 
> I personally don’t find it titillating, but hey, sometimes this stuff fits into people’s own fantasies and that’s their business.
> 
> Finally, I by no means want to imply that this is the proper interpretation of the Fjord and Avantika sex scene, this is simply how I interpreted it because it hit on all sorts of fucked up anxieties I have. For all I know, Travis will proclaim that Fjord is actually deeply in love, they talked extensively about what the each wanted from the encounter, and had a great time free of anything skeevy. 
> 
> PS: I rated this fic accordingly, don’t poke your nose in if you’re a minor.

Fjord knows what he’s doing when he leans in toward Avantika. He’d done it before, years ago. It was what made him realize that—even though he still saw a chubby, misshapen preteen in every reflective surface—not everyone did. Some people saw an opportunity. So he’s not surprised when Avantika, high on her success and wild with power, digs her nails into his scalp and plunders his mouth with her tongue.

Avantika is a powerful woman, self-assured and ruthless. Fjord has the height advantage, potentially the strength advantage as well, but he has none of her gall and grit. When she pushes him against the wall, he thinks about how he’d nearly grabbed her legs in the well. She had been underneath longer, had lost precious air from screaming in pain as the orb was torn from her hand. If he had managed to take hold, it would have been a simple matter of outlasting her, holding her under until she went limp. Maybe the fear of drowning would have made her struggle even more, lose air faster, die sooner.

Her hands are out of his hair and twisted in his shirt, pulling him down and into a deep kiss. She fills his mouth with heavy breathing and tongue, laughing as she excites in the throes of a night’s victory. Fjord knows the motions, not well, but enough. The thrill is enough to keep Avantika distracted, chasing her own pleasure while Fjord moves where she directs without a word uttered aloud.

She’s crazed, but she’s driven. She took her experiences with Uka’Toa and turned them into a life. She crafted something from who-knows-what. She made sacrifices he knows he never could.

She spoke to him like he meant something.

Fjord lets himself fall onto the bed when she shoves him backward. It’s not a graceful tumble, but Avantika’s laugh when she sees him sprawled isn’t mocking. It’s predatory. He manages his most tantalizing smirk in response, rolling his shoulders back so his shirt stretches across his chest, lifting a knee so his heel balances on the edge of the mattress. Preening, almost, under her gaze. It’s what she wants. Fjord might not be the wisest, but he learns. Yes, he’s learned this part. He shows off his strongest features: his build, lean with work without the bulk his heritage predisposes him toward.

That had been a constant battle, entering puberty. Working and lifting and dragging so his muscles would pull tight under his skin, restricting his diet so he didn’t retain any fat. He remembers how much that hurt, demanding labor from his body while providing it no energy to use. After a while, he got used to it just as he grew used to filing down his tusks. It was all a matter of looking useful, and strong, and approachable without any of the parts that made him a threat. Defanged and reduced, but at least he’s pretty.

When Avantika has his pants down his thighs, she takes his hands. One she moves to his groin, encouraging him to get himself hard while the other she directs to her... her... To her. She’s direct, guiding his fingers, establishing a rhythm. Fjord’s not an idiot and he knows she’s not looking for a warm corpse, not yet; so he moves with her, following her directions—wordless or otherwise—and bringing her to her first peak while she’s still mostly dressed. It’s remarkably easy to do it, given how often he’s heard other men complain about the difficulty. All he had to do was exactly what she told him to do. 

Getting himself appropriately ready for her enjoyment is a simple mixture of friction and biology. His first time doing this had been a bit more difficult, as they had insisted on doing it themselves. The touches had been rough, hitting none of the right spots, and an erection had eventually made a show through concentrated will-power alone that night. Tonight is easier as Avantika allows him the freedom to do it on his own terms. She smothers him with another kiss as she thrusts against his hand.

When she rides him, Fjord touches her body, grunts and moans the way she’d expect. Avantika is perceptive, frighteningly so, but the only eye open on her body at the moment is the tattoo below her collar. There are non-violent means of blinding a person, if you’re willing to do what needs doing.

He thinks of the duty he has, to himself and his friends. And they are his friends. Gone are the days of safety-in-numbers and companions-of-convenience. His little romantic’s heart knew that they hadn’t been that in a long time. If nothing else, it died with Molly. They’d been willing to risk their lives for Jester and Yasha and himself. It had cost Molly his own, and the others had been close. He saw the state they were in when the cells were opened. He remembers.

Avantika is beautiful, in the way a coral snake is beautiful. Lethally so. He’s put himself up to be like her, when he thought he could get away with it. When it was easier to swallow than the alternative. Like a milksnake, wearing the wrong colors to fool those too scared to look closely. His are the wrong colors, as usual, but Avantika...

Her eyes crack open, face still pinched in rapturous concentration, and her hair loose and wild. Her amber gaze on him is obscured by those locks.

Red and yellow kill a fellow.

He thrusts up into her, and his stuttered groan isn’t forced. She grabs either side of his face, nails digging in at the hinge of his jaw, and pulls him to her chest. He embraces her, tightly, and breathes in the smell of brine and her pleasure. 

She’s still riding the high of sex and victory, but she’ll be exhausted soon. Neither of them have had a proper rest in well over a day. He closes his hand in her hair, loose so as not to give the impression he means to control her. With his fist like this, he could imagine the feel of his falchion in his grasp. Vandren’s falchion. The Sword of Fathoms, if the snake dancing in his lap is to be believed. 

He wonders what would happen if he summoned it like this. Would it materialize, blade through Avantika’s skull? He moves his hand down her back, across scars and rough skin, to just under her shoulder blades. He rolls upward again and they’re chest to chest as she scrabbles against his back, dragging lines across his skin. If he summoned it now, like this, would it kill them both?

He’s no snake, and no scorpion either. It’s not in his nature to take another down with him. It’s not in his nature to be brave. He’s hungry for power, for recognition. For validation. As much as she is a threat, she can give him that. All of it. 

_Watching..._ rumbles through Fjord’s head as he releases his hand from the loose fist. No blade would have appeared, even if he wanted it to. Like most everything in his life, it’s not really his.

Eventually, Avantika bites into his shoulder and huffs out her last gasp of pleasure. She rolls off of him and onto the sheets. She’s sated and grins at Fjord when he puts on a performance of lying down beside her in a similar state of bliss. When Avantika closes her eyes, Fjord counts the minutes until he hears her breathing even out into sleep. Or he hopes it’s sleep. He saw her snap to lethal wakefulness from deep slumber before. Regardless, his job is done. When he rolls out of her bed and begins gathering his clothes, she doesn’t stir. It’s only when he’s at her door, casting one last glance around her quarters, that he sees the faint, amber glimmer from the pillows. He pulls the door closed right behind him as he sneaks toward his room.

If nothing else, he’s bought them all time.

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s that on that.


End file.
